Excitement and Nations
by Rockcutter28
Summary: There are many hierarchies of power on Earth. From the lowest of animals to the most powerful of wizards. But unknown to most, there are some beings which have even more power. Nations. All the power and will of millions of people embodied in one being. How will the Girl-Who-Lived turn out when a lonely nation finds herself caring for a little death defying girl? T for some gore
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or Harry Potter. (or James Bond)**

 **AN at bottom**

Paris, France 1984

Paris, also known as the City of Lights, the heart of the French nation and one of Europe's most progressive and beautiful nations. The cobbled streets were sprawling and centuries old buildings filled the city skyline. One building however, around 3 stories tall and sitting in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower was not nearly so old in appearance. Rather, by it's build it seemed as if it wouldn't be deemed out of place in Wall Street, New York. With automatic doors, tasteful Roman style, immaculately polished tinted windows, and a posse of suits who looked like they came straight out of a James Bond film, the building was professional in every sense of the word.

At least, that's what one would think upon first looking at the building. If one were a more permanent resident of the city, they wouldn't have been surprised when a wooden chair came rocketing out the top floor window only to shatter into splinters upon impact with the street. It was a credit to both the citizenry and the agents outside the building that only a few people started and the remains of the piece of furniture were swept up and disposed of in under a minute. One young boy, who had never thought to witness a chair being thrown out a window for any reason, hesitantly tugged at his mother's skirt in askance. "Maman, what was that?" The boy's mother stopped walking and turned her head to look where her son was pointing. After a moment, a look of exasperation came over her features before she plastered a stern look on her face and replied. "Politics, mon fils, politics". As the child was dragged away from the noisy building he wondered, " _what's polly ticks?"._

...

Inside said building, instead of a bunch of old men in suits using passive aggression and none-too subtle threats to advance their own agendas, there was a large gathering of young adults wearing everything from simple slacks and shirt to medieval armor. Also, rather than just a gathering of French politicians, these people came from what seemed to be a variety of backgrounds. And if one were knowledgeable about such things, they would know that not a single one of them came from the same place in the world. However, instead of a haven of cooperation and progress, there was a battlefield. The scene on the top floor of France's "U.N." building could be likened to two things: a battle straight out of the middle ages, or a bar brawl. Logical arguments could be made for both situations and one would still be partially right. It was in this battle, upon the long table that the nation of Hungary deflected a sword strike to the chest before responding with an overhead swing that blurred from the speed of the swing and caused a shockwave as it was barely parried by her opponent. Not even taking a moment to breathe, she lifted her leg and delivered a kick that would have crushed an engine block like a tin can to her foe's abdomen, the sound of flesh meeting flesh drowned out by the sounds of battle around them. Luckily for the sword wielding country, he was in fact tougher than an engine block and so the kick only knocked the breathe out of him rather than destroy all of his internal organs.

Almost no one alive would know for certain that it was indeed possible for an entire country to stand inside of a building while at the same time doing battle with another. It was scientifically unsound, there was no proof that an anthropomorphic personification of a nation could exist, or even have a sex, and most didn't even consider the possibility with the exception of a few conspiracy theorists.

Judging by the grin on said nation's face, he would have charged straight back into the fight had a chair not slammed into the side of his head with all the force and speed of an 18-wheeler, bowling him over and flying out the window a moment later . Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, Hungary simply lifted a booted foot into the air before smashing it down fast enough it would have broken the sound barrier if not for the short distance, cracking the table in half and sending more than two dozen nations staggering as her once fierce enemy was given a concussion as his skull was nearly bashed in. Leaping from the table gracefully, the Hungarian warrior roared a battlecry at a certain vampiric looking nation, crossing the length of the room with a single leap before swinging down with all the force centuries of hate could muster as he barely turned in time to block her strike. In her mind, Hungary grinned toothily, she might find Prussia to be a pest, but he was always useful for creating chaos and giving her chances to kick all her old and new enemies asses without being singled out, not that any of the others would be caught complaining either if the battle between Turkey and Greece off to her left was any indication.

On the other side of the room, just in front of the double doorway one blond man stands, blank faced at the spectacle of carnage surrounding him, calmly taking in the multiple beaten bodies, clashing steel, and shouted insults with a poker face carved from granite. The only sign that something is bothering him being his subtly tensed muscles and the telltale signs of a clenched jaw. Seconds later, a young Italian man appears in front of him so fast he as well have teleported "Germany, Germany! help me please!" He stops momentarily to hide from a group of nations who thought he was his brother, who had also been framed for dumping a basket of tomatoes on their heads( it had been Spain). He emerges soon after despite his protector's body beginning to twitch "Ve-, Germany, did you bring that pasta I forgot? Did you bring Italycat, Oh, and did you remember to type up my presentation last night, and iron your uniform this morning. Did you schedule training for after the weekend yet? Did you like our last session? I didn't, you were scary and then made me run five miles, but that's okay-Ve, cause now maybe I'll be able to fight now, or at least run away faster while I surrender". Germany had developed a distinguished tick mark on his forehead, his skin was gradually turning more pink as Italy rambled on. It was as a Viking axe flew by him and buried itself in the door beside him, frightening Italy and causing him to cower behind Germany while waving a white flag that wasn't on him beforehand and was too large to have been in his pocket that he finally exploded.

 **"Was zum Teufel ist hier los?!"**

* * *

It was around three P.M. and the World Meeting had finally ended a half-hour ago. Germany's blow up had been practically volcanic in scale. Hungary herself had easily managed to pin the blame on his brother while sitting immaculately in her seat, and America, England, Spain, Turkey, and Russia were quick to back her up and throw Prussia under the proverbial bus despite them all being some of the worst instigators after him. Though besides Russia, none of them were very willing to go against her as she casually cleaned the blood off of her frying pan. Germany had fumed angrily and looked upon all of them with suspicion, but one look at the silly dazed grin on his brother's unconscious face was enough to placate him as he bodily hauled the albino out of the room and tied him up in a broom closet. He figured that he could finish the meeting and pick him up after dinner or something. France had gone out of his way to buy out one of his most expensive restaurants for all the nations to eat at, a sort of social get together rather than a business one(though with the way meetings went, was there really much of a difference?)

Since there were still four hours until the dinner reservation, Hungary figured she had a little time for sightseeing, or rather a walk, since she **had** actually been to Paris before, dozens of times in fact and many times before most of the monuments there had been built. Still, the city gave off a peaceful feeling that had been so absent for much of the last millennia, and she took any opportunity to get a bit of that peace where she could. With that thought in mind, the nation of Hungary set off down the road, eyes half closed and senses open.

...

...

...

Vernon Dursley was on cloud nine. The drilling company he worked for, Grunnings, had recently gotten a fantastic deal to establish a site in France in exchange for a portion of the profits and Vernon was being sent over to Paris to finalize the deal. It was made even sweeter that he was allowed to bring his family along as a sort of 'paid vacation'. But what really took the cake for him was currently sitting a few seats to his left on the train. His Freakish niece had been thrust upon them uncaringly a few years ago and his families perfectly normal life was thrown out of whack. He knew from what Petunia had told him that she had inherited her unnaturalness from her crazed parents and it was already showing. Well after the last deal he made was ruined by the Freak when his skin turned grey, he wasn't going to take any chances that the brat wouldn't ruin him, freak terrorists be damned, besides, if they were so angry at the girl, they could just track her down themselves, no sir he wouldn't be caught dead associating with that waste of space and no one could accuse him otherwise after today.

The grin that infected the large man's face was enough to disturb several of the train's passenger's.

Walking off of the train and onto the streets of Paris behind her relatives, was a child who could have passed for a two year old, though she was actually four. The child was dressed only in a ratty sweater that would pass for a dress on a child of her size if it were not disgustingly filthy and very obviously just an oversized piece of clothing. Coupled with a pair of round glasses that were cracked in one lens and a shredded pair of sandals, the young brunette was the very image of orphaned street-rat. She had no idea why her auntie and uncle had decided to take her with them on "vacation" whatever that was, but it was a decidedly improved situation to her cramped cupboard under the stairs. It didn't matter that auntie had told her explicitly that there would be no 'freakishness' while they were gone, they were taking her somewhere new. Though she didn't know how not to do "freakish" things, since her name was Freak, how was she supposed to stop doing herself-ish things? But since she hadn't been hit since the trip began, she figured that she was doing pretty well so far in that department. She just hoped cousin Dudley didn't fart on her while she was sitting, the last time had made her eyes water and from the slap auntie had given her, that was freakish behavior too. Luckily he hadn't, and they were currently walking down the streets of a place called "Paris", she had no idea where it was(or even where Britain was for that matter, since she had never had it pointed out to her on a map), but it was beautiful, and she couldn't stop staring even as she trailed obediently behind her auntie as she was assaulted by a myriad of colours and sounds that all blended together in such a pretty way that the young girl was sure she had never seen such a wonderful vision in her short existence.

...

She was lost.

It wasnt't her fault! She had only been distracted for a moment by the sight of a tanned man chasing a blond man with a battle axe before her relatives had disappeared into the crowded streets and she lost them. It had already been ten minutes and she was feeling like she might panic; If she didn't show up soon, uncle Vernon would bring out the belt, and probably send her to bed without food for the day too. Suddenly all the bright colours which seemed so vivid and friendly before became overwhelming, and took on a sinister gleam. It was all so very suffocating that she couldn't help a few tears spilling out, which she quickly wiped away with the sleeve of her sweater/dress. Composing herself after a minute of quiet whimpering, she figured she should just go back the way she came and wait for her uncle to find her there. After all, maybe she wouldn't be punished for being freakish if she just explained that she hadn't done anything, just gotten lost.

...

It had been a while and she was pretty sure she had only gotten more lost since she had started walking. Currently, she was walking down a smaller, somewhat less populated roadway, the place looked nice enough just like the rest of the city, but she was getting nervous. There was a distinctly unfriendly feeling all around her and it made her want to cuddle up into a ball and hide in her cupboard. She halts her darkening thoughts as her legs are too tired at this point to keep walking, huffing slightly, the small girl plops down tiredly at the base of an old building. Few passersby give her any sort of notice, just assuming her to be another street rat and too busy themselves to bother overmuch. She didn't know how long she lay there, but it was out of nowhere that a large gloved hand grabbed her around the waist, hauling her bodily into the alleyway. The young Freak just barely has time to give a scream that sounds a bit too much like a squeak before her mouth is covered by her assailant's other hand. **"Tais-toi, enfant"** Panicking at the dangerous undertone of the man's voice, regardless of the fact that his words made no sense to her, she wails into his hand while kicking and screaming in his arms, she had heard that tone before from uncle Vernon and she just knew whatever this man could do would be much worse than anything her uncle had thus far done to her.

Cursing to himself for wasting time, the thug quickly backed into the alley and ran to a worn looking steel door, awkwardly pulling a key out of his pocket, thus allowing the small girl in his arms a moment to let out a terrified screech. Cursing even more vehemently in French, the man pulls open the door quickly before slamming it behind him, the girl's sobbing quickly muffled.

...

It had only been an hour into her walk that Hungary had heard the scream. It was a sound that many nations were all too familiar with, or at least those who had lived long enough to become accustomed to the sound of innocents dying. She was walking down a somewhat less crowded street, the tall yet old buildings and the cobbled road combined to give the place a very old world feel that the central European nation could appreciate. Though she would have preferred her green dress to her military uniform that she wore now, it was still peaceful. Unfortunately, the illusion of niceness was shattered when the screams of a small girl momentarily assaulted her ears. Hungary's eyes shot open, and for a moment she listened, not completely convinced she hadn't hallucinated the sound. It wouldn't have been a surprise, for beings such as her, who's very nature was to war and fight amongst themselves, spouts of lunacy were common after centuries of bloodshed, and each nation had their own way of coping with the darkness that they had witnessed in their lives. But her suspicions were allayed a moment later as another scream sounded, barely a hundred meters in front of her, likely coming from an alley.

For a moment, the nation hesitated. Sure this was an innocent child, but she had seen thousands of children cut down early in the past, watched her own men kill children, had heard the sounds of violent crime in the background whenever she visited a large city. Was one more really something to get worked up over? It was likely the child was one of France's anyway, and it wasn't her responsibility to go playing rescuer to every foreign child she came across. And yet, before she had a chance to really contemplate the idea further, she remembered the looks in the eyes of her own land's children in '56' as the soviets gunned them down. No, she couldn't live with herself if she allowed herself to walk away as a child's fate was tragically cut short again, not even for one of France's. Uncaring of the possible watchers, she runs the hundred meters to the alley where she heard the scream faster than any human ever could. Racing down the alley, under balconies and roof tiles she see's only a single steel door with only a single unlit bulb above it. Testing the handle proved that the door had been locked behind whoever had taken the child. Giving it a tap, she could tell that it was two inches thick solid steel, no problem at all. Taking one step back, Hungary smirked slightly as she lifted her left leg and kicked out with enough force to make Atlas jealous. The results of her godly strength were evident as the steel door crumpled like tissue paper taking a significant portion of the wall around with it. Reaching down with her right hand, she pulled a gleaming longsword out of a sheath that hadn't been there before, while she held her left arm to her chest where a shining kite shield appeared as though it had been there the whole time. Both were shining so brightly it was as if they had a light of their own as they shimmered with an ethereal light that gave them an unworldly feel to most observers. She decided to forego armor, not wanting to make it too easy as she descended. Her entrance had already alerted those present and likely most of those living above as well, judging from the panicked yells of many men and women down the tunnel beneath the building. After a minute's walking without running into anyone, Hungary finally emerged into what seemed like a dining room sized antechamber, with a small wooden table and chairs sitting around it and another door behind it. There were already three men waiting for her with guns in hand, two with nine-millimeters and one with a revolver. They of course didn't hesitate in firing on her, unfortunately for them however, Hungary's shield was made of tougher stuff than brass and her inhuman speed allowed her to deflect all of the shots easily, though the ringing on the metal wasn't exactly pleasant. Grinning nastily, she stepped faster than the eye could see and before any of the three could react, one of them had his head bisected by her blade and the one with the revolver exploded as his upper torso was bashed with all the strength the nation had, leaving his lower body to collapse, spine sticking out as blood erupted like a fountain, drenching Hungary and her remaining opponent, who had frozen in fear after watching his comrades felled so easily and bloodily. Teeth stained red, the immortal woman just twirled her blade lazily as she sauntered over to the last man who shakily pointed his pistol at her, she just chuckled darkly as her smirk widened into a bloodthirsty grin. These lowlifes were nothing to her, but it had been too long since she had a good, real fight and they would have to do...

...

Young Freak was terrified, in less than a minute she had been kidnapped by a strange man and brought into some dark basement which was filled with intimidating thug type men and many sad looking girls and boys who only spared the scared toddler a quick look of pity before returning to their tasks. She had kept screaming into her captors hand, but that was stopped quickly when the man got fed-up with her resistance and punched her in the side of the head. Pain exploded throughout her cranium, and she could barely think, let alone do anything more than moan pathetically as she was shoved into a rough bag which was then tied shut. She wanted to cry out, to beg for her mommy and daddy to come and save her from these cruel men, but she knew they weren't coming, they were dead from the car crash and probably didn't even care that she would be hurt by these meanies who did nothing but hurt her even more callously than the Dursleys. So she cried, whimpered and sobbed as despair gripped her soul. The darkness around her and the eerie silence behind the door of the room she'd been thrown into along with the rough material of the bag digging into her skin was enough to bring the girl into a near shutdown as fear overwhelmed her. She would never see her family, would never grow up and have one of her own, she would never get to go to school or make friends, she wouldn't be able to go see fantastic places all 'round the world or get a pet cat. She-her thoughts were interrupted sharply by a resounding boom as the sound of something exploding up above ground caught her attention. Freezing where she lay as she dared not move a muscle, even as her head throbbed with pain she concentrated. A full minute later and a loud series of bangs rang out, followed moments later by a man's horrified scream which cut off sharply a second later. Paling, the young girl was only able to contain screams of fear because she would certainly draw the attention of whatever monster was surely tearing apart those men outside. And while she distinctly did **not** like the man who had grabbed her and hurt her, she was more terrified of whatever could make a man scream like that. She didn't have to wait long to figure it out however, as she could hear another loud crack, as though a bolt of lightning had struck underground, which was followed by a cacophony of sound. Largely it was a large series of bangs and sounds of metal colliding mixed with screams. Most of these were of fear, but more and more of them became ones of unspeakable agony with each sound of crunching bone and exploding organs. Freak couldn't help it anymore, she turned over and emptied her stomach regardless of the fact that she was in a bag and it got her filthy. Whatever monster was out there she was glad she was hidden in here, because whatever it was must be truly horrific to incite such primal fear in grown men.

She didn't get much time to contemplate however as moments later the door behind her was wrenched open and she was hauled up and held in the arms of the same man who had grabbed her the first time as the bag was ripped away and she was allowed to see scene around her. Looking around, in the corner of the room, the older kids that she had seen a few minutes ago were huddled in a corner, filthy and crying and screaming in equal measure. She moved on and what she saw had her dry heaving despite the man's threatening grip on her throat and the piece of metal pressed to the side of her head. Bodies, some whole yet having limbs and body parts rearranged as though put together incorrectly, others completely blown apart as though with an explosive and with blood all over the room. Puddles of it with chunks of flesh dripping from the tables and splatters all over the walls paint a gruesome picture and she turns her eyes towards the only thing in the room that isn't a horrifying picture of gore.

A woman stands a good ten paces from her, like everything else in the room she has blood on her, but not nearly so much as everything else. In her right hand is a sword which looks like it comes straight out of a fairy tale, and the shield in her left looks much the same, practically glowing and completely clean of blood, both items are of a grace that just screams the "M" word to her. The woman herself is slightly tanned, having long pale brown hair and an orange flower pinned in it. Her military uniform is fairly standard, a deep green tucked into black boots. Her features however, are set into a scowl, her glare being hot enough to evaporate magma. At first, Freak is scared at the look the woman is sending her way, but then she notices how the hands holding her are shaking as the man holding her shakes violently in fear. "D-Démon, reculer ou je t-t-tue l'enfant" the man stutters out some sort of nonsense and presses the metal thing harder to her head. She just keeps still, not wanting to be killed over moving too much. "Maintenant, il n'y a pas besoin d'être hâtive" the woman responds calmly. She can hear the man's heart speed up in response to her words. He's practically twitching now, tears leaking out of his eyes after watching this woman slaughter all of his associates like pigs. It is when she takes a hesitant step forward, sword lowered that his composure breaks. Freak only has enough time to meet the woman's suddenly terrified eyes before she feels a horrible pain in her forehead over her scar before everything goes black.

...

...

Hundreds of miles away, in a massive castle in Scotland, many of the devices and doodads in the office of Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore either stop moving and go black, explode, or melt as the prophecy child, the Girl-Who-Lived, Iris Dorea Potter meets her death at the end of a muggle gun.

The old man himself isn't even in the room, having been gone for some time at a meeting of the ICW in France, and his phoenix companion Fawkes is absent as well, not spending ALL his time sitting in the headmaster's office. The only one there to witness the evidence of the Potter child's demise and subsequent vanishing from the Hogwarts register is the Sorting Hat, who doesn't even know what the malfunctioning devices mean, so it simply huffs to itself in irritation before going back to sleep, along with the sleeping portraits around the room who weren't even disturbed by the malfunctioning devices.

Only a few miles away, England doesn't even twitch as the connection to one of his citizens is severed, having grown used to feeling the deaths of his citizens. Though he would have noticed the connection being reestablished, albeit a bit more weakly had Spain not descended upon him at that moment, axe raised high and still angry for the insult to his Armada. England jumped away gracefully, odd phenomena forgotten as he focuses on avoiding having his head taken off by an angry Spaniard.

...

Hungary doesn't even hesitate after watching it happen, her sword left her hand before the man could even drop the child, impaling him up to the hilt as his body is pinned to the wall behind him through his heart; He struggles feebly for a moment before going still. Leaping forward, she catches the falling body before it can hit the ground and can only stare at the hole which looks back at her accusingly. The child's dead eyes look up at her, fear still present at the horrifying events that just transpired. Closing her eyes, Hungary attempts to stifle her tears as guilt overwhelms her. Her bloodlust had gotten the better of her and now an innocent little girl had paid the ultimate price for her failure. What kind of savior did she think she was? What kind of **Nation** had she become?, that she let her need for a good fight let a little girl die? How could she ever allow herself to-her despairing thoughts are interrupted by a burst of black smoke coming out from under her. Leaping back so fast her form blurs, Hungary gapes as a screaming mass of black smoke emerges from the hole in the little girl's forehead. For a moment she swears she can she a skull like head in the smoke before the screams die off and the cloud dissipates. Immediately after this she leaps forward and grasps at the dead girl's body again, but what she see's nearly gives the old nation a heart attack. Clear, unblemished skin where before there had been a hole in her head. It is when the girl's chest begins rising and falling that Hungary has to mentally reassure herself that this girl is not in fact a new personification, nor a vampire or human-shaped phoenix, that much she's fairly certain of. But if not that, then how exactly did she just come back from the dead? Quite frankly, the nation is fairly sure she's never seen a human come back from the dead before and she still doesn't know what to do when a hesitant tap on her shoulder snaps her out of her daze. Turning to face the person, she comes face to face with one of the kids who had been held here " Euh, je ne sais pas W-qui vous êtes, . Mais peut-être vous devriez aller, Tu sais, si tu ne vas pas nous tuer ou quoi?" He states as though it were a question. Sighing, the nation stands, holding the little girl in her arms " Chacun de vous sortir d'ici" she orders, and none of them hesitate before they run to the open door and the stairs, some stopping to empty whatever is left in their stomachs before continuing on.

Hungary herself just closed her eyes for a moment to let the situation sink in before doing the same. She can hear police sirens in the distance and she doesn't want to have to explain how and why she massacred over a dozen thugs to rescue a young child, nor explain to France why she decided to do so when everyone was supposed to be coming together in cooperation and friendship in just a few hours. Besides, the local Aurors would likely detect the outpouring of whatever magic that was and come to investigate, though if they don't, those kids might just start spreading the word of little girls defying death and women with Heracles level strength, which would be a hassle and a half. Finally reaching the top of the stairs, she simply reapplies her grip to the still slumbering girl before leaping up, glancing off the opposite wall before pushing off of it and doing so several times before she finds herself on the roof. She can see the hotel where the nations are staying in the distance. Bracing herself, Hungary runs forward and **leaps** , dozens of meters of open air are covered in seconds as she lands on another roof, barely stopping before jumping again, this time the building is only a block or so away. Stopping on the roof she landed on, she ponders for a moment before coming to a decision. Her room is on the west side of the building to her southern position on the fifth floor so she'll just have to climb up and around before dropping onto the balcony of her room. she can only imagine the questions if the U.N.'s Hungarian diplomat were to march into the hotel, covered in blood and holding a small child. Likely everyone not a nation, and even a few of them regardless(the slavs most likely) would think she had murdered a group of people and stolen a child off the streets to us as a hostage or something.

So she would have to sneak into her room to wash up before the girl woke up, as well as get ready for the dinner downtown. Making one last leap, she landed with a thud on the roof of the hotel. Walking over to the western side, she holds the girl under one arm while she uses the other to hold onto the wall. Swinging down past the first balcony, she holds on for a moment before letting go and dropping again. She does this several times before she makes it to her floor, although along the way she had seen several raunchy scenes that normally she wouldn't have hesitated to peek in on if she wasn't currently holding onto a death defying toddler and covered in blood. Opening the sliding door and stepping in she immediately walks over to the bathroom. Closing the door behind her she walks over to the shower and turns it up to warm before allowing it to get warmed up. Mechanically she removes the oversized sweater from the girl before setting it in the sink. Removing the girl's underwear she doesn't get a pretty picture, her body was malnourished and thin, she also had a slightly sickly pallor that spoke of living in the darkness for long periods of time. It was her clothing that spoke to her the most however: The sweater which she had been wearing was barely more than a dishrag, even the homeless often had better than that. This child had most likely spent her few years of life stuck in the dark of some basement before somehow finding her way to the streets where she had promptly been kidnapped by a gang of human traffickers before Hungary showed up. Quickly stripping off her own clothes, the nation stepped softly into the shower, not wanting to jostle the small child in her arms. Resting her small head on her bosom, Hungary sighs softly to herself as she softly begins scrubbing the blood from their skins, and she likes to think it isn't her imagination that the girl snuggles deeper into her chest as a soothing hand runs through her hair with soap. Several minutes of careful ministration reveal the child's hair to be a deep black with small jets of crimson throughout if looked at by a certain angle. Somewhat wild as well, though manageable. With all the blood on their bodies gone, Hungary shifts both her hands to holding the girl to her chest as she slows rocks from side to side, humming lightly. Opening her eyes to look down at the little girl, she is struck by an intense longing that she instantly suppresses before it can take hold.

Moment of peace ruined nonetheless, the nation turns off the water and steps out of the shower, grabbing a few towels as she walks. Leaving the bloodied clothes on the ground, she moves over to her suitcase and travelling bag, only stopping to set the child down on the bed. Digging around for a moment, she smirks slightly to herself as she pulls out a small green maid's dress, chuckling to herself, she begins dressing the girl in underclothes and then stuffing her into the dress. If she hadn't seen for herself how underfed and unhealthy the girl was, she would be cooing over how cute she looked in it. Smiling sadly at the thought, she picks up the still unconscious girl delicately, pulling back the covers of the luxurious bed( **Thank you, France** ) and laying her down before carefully tucking her in. Slowly she rubs her thumb over the girl's forehead where a lightning bolt scar had once been( **though she didn't know that** ) before moving away to her suitcase once more.

...

A good hour later and the Hungarian nation is almost ready to leave for the nation dinner in two hours. Sitting at the desk provided by the hotel she puts the final words into a note that she's going to leave for the girl when she wakes. She'd written it in several times in several languages just to be sure, though she wasn't sure if the girl could read yet, she didn't know if the girl was even from France so she had no way of knowing if she had even gone to school yet. Still, it wasn't like she could do anything about it if she couldn't read, she still had to go to the nation dinner or people(namely Prussia and Austria) would start wondering where she was, and she wasn't sure she was ready to explain where she got a malnourished toddler who rose from the dead but wasn't a personification. Figuring she might as well get going a bit early, Hungary walked over to the door before turning off all but a small light near the bed. Looking back at the tiny little girl in one of Italy's old maid dresses, she had to quickly avert her eyes as she stubbornly refuses to be swayed as she closes and locks the door behind her, her gown shining as she heads towards the elevators to catch a taxi to the restaurant.

It was already 6:30 by the time Hungary actually arrived at the restaurant. Normally a taxi ride several blocks wouldn't take over an hour but halfway there she had spotted Austria, who despite having left even earlier than her in an effort to arrive on time, not that it did any good, as he still got lost. He was still as bad with directions as ever and had ended up going in the opposite direction of the building he was looking for. So being the good friend/ex-wife/ally that she was, she offered to let him ride in the taxi with her. He accepted of course, but also asked that they find Switzerland, who had called him a moment ago to ask him to help locate Liechtenstein as she had forgotten her phone, bulky thing that it was. In the end they had ended up paying double what the trip would have warranted and even after finding the Swiss nation it turned out that Liechtenstein had gone out on a walk and ended up at the restaurant after some wandering and was now chatting happily with France.

Now, sitting at an immaculate table in the large ballroom, Hungary is internally running in circles trying to explain the mystery she left in her hotel room bed. She wishes she could stop, especially when it's one of those rare times when all her loved ones are together in the same place for more than business, but even with Austria, Prussia and his brother, as well as Ita all chatting casually, peaceful smiles on their faces, she can't focus on them. For the last 40 years, things had been getting more and more dull as time progressed, or if she was being honest with herself, at least the last 4 centuries. And while she appreciated all her friends greatly, her adventurous spirit had been suppressed out of necessity in the new world of peace and international cooperation and this recent conundrum was too interesting for her to ignore when it was right beneath her nose.

Her friends had yet to notice her contemplative silence, and so she plastered a smile on her face even as she mentally ran hundreds of thousands of ideas through her head simultaneously while at the same time keeping pace with the conversation going on in front of her. Even so she was convinced that Austria and Prussia had noticed her distraction, though having known them for over a thousand years it wasn't really all that surprising they could read her so easily and just as easily knew better than to push unless they wanted a concussion.

When Prussia said 'awesome' for the three hundred and fifty second time that night, and Italy said 'pasta' for the nine hundred and twelfth time, Hungary slammed her head on the table with a groan, unable to concentrate even as her ex-husband smirked at the albino and Italian victoriously.

* * *

Awareness returned to her slowly, the heady feeling of unconsciousness still hanging over her like a particularly heavy fog. The migraine the size of Australia(A few miles away, Australia sneezed) wasn't exactly helping her recovery. Whimpering slightly from the pain, she reached up to rub her forehead in an attempt to relieve the pain only to stop in shock as she felt her scar. Or rather, where her scar _used_ to be, as all there was now was some slightly tender skin. Words could not describe her shock, for as long as she could remember her lightning shaped scar had always been there, an angry red yet not bleeding. She was pretty sure at least; Wracking her brain for answers she immediately panics when she comes up with nothing. Sitting up, eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears she repeatedly attempted to remember something, anything about anything and came up with a a mass of thin jelly which slid out of her reach as soon as she attempted to grasp at it and an escalated headache which soon became too much for the young child as she once again fell into unconsciousness.

...

It was dark when she awoke again, this time unburdened by headsplitting pain as she sat up. Confusion once more overcame her as she realized she had no idea where she was. Looking around frantically, the child realized she was in a lavishly decorated room, which was a bigger display of wealth than the she had ever witnessed, and she gaped not comprehending the situation around her even as the realization that she was wearing a well made green dress with a white apron made her want to cry even more(as again she had no idea how she was wearing it). Sniffling, she cautiously felt the fabric of the-bed? that she was laying in, the material was what she imagined solid water to feel like if it were not wet. The feeling was pure bliss and, temporarily distracted from her dilemma, she closed her eyes and just drank in the sensation all over her arms and legs as she leaned over to get more contact with the blankets, giggling slightly as the soft sheets tickled her.

It seemed as if no time at all had passed when her girlish giggling was interrupted by the sound of a knob turning. Freezing where she sat, the girl quickly lay back down and quieted her breathing, though she wasn't sure why she did so.

This was the scene Hungary came upon when she finally returned to her room in the hotel. Of course, she wasn't fooled by the girl's pathetic attempt at pretending to sleep, but she figured she would indulge her if only in an effort not to frighten the poor thing to death(no pun intended). So, closing the door behind her and locking it, she put down her purse and approached the bed. The little girl's face was pinched ever so slightly in an adorable display of effort at faking sleep. Given their location, she decided to talk to her in French, " **Bonjour, jeune** " she intoned amusedly even as she poked the girl in the stomach. The girl's face showed clear confusion, even as she hastily attempted to stifle a giggle. She was glad, the girl seemed a bit too wary at first, but the childish attempt to pretend sleep and high-pitched giggling were clear signs she hadn't been too badly scarred by her kidnapping. Since French didn't work she decided to go for the next best thing and ask in English, "Hello, child, can you understand me?" Luckily Hungary's accent, while notable, was not too pronounced as to make it harder to understand her, and it seemed her young guest agreed for her eyes were now open and staring at her. Hungary's smile softened from amused to caring as they matched gazes, the little girl's wide green eyes were alight with innocence even as they practically shone with their own inner light. Though curiously, she showed no signs of recognizing her even though they were filled with apprehension at meeting someone who was practically a stranger.

After a moment of silence, the girl dressed in a small maid's outfit hesitantly spoke up, "Um, s'cuze me, but who'ryouandwhereisthisandwhoamIandwhycan'tIrememberanythingandcanyoupleasehelpme? The girl spoke so fast her words blurred together and became harder to discern even as she began to tear up towards the end of her panic induced rant. Heart melting near instantly at the sight of the tears in her eyes, Hungary moved to embrace the girl, poor thing that she was. Overwhelmed and unable to distract herself with the silky sheets, she broke down in tears even as she clung to Hungary like bark to a tree, sniffling and sobbing. The woman herself just sighed and absentmindedly ran her fingers through the girl's hair even as she embraced her, thoughts whirring at the hastily translated English she had spewed. The bullet must have given the child amnesia, though she suspected from the girl's attire and circumstances that there wasn't much worth remembering anyhow. Still, that she couldn't remember her own name, nor where she was and what had happened to her would complicate things. Hungary had only intended to save the girl's life, and perhaps an get an answer to why she had returned to life after dying. Perhaps a little help in bettering her situation given her poor circumstance. Now, she would have to ask France if there were any missing person's reports recently, and if there weren't, well she couldn't just let a little girl like that go to an orphanage where whatever bad circumstances she was in possibly continue, or even have her discovered by Unspeakables and be used for research into whatever saved her life.

Said traumatized girl was too busy huddling closer to the protective embrace of the woman to notice her worry as she let out her frustrations, and had no intention of moving. From where she was, she could feel a warmth she was entirely unfamiliar with yet she found herself craving as strong yet gentle arms enveloped her small frame. Even now she could feel herself settling comfortably into her embrace as the woman's fingers ran soothingly through her hair, making her somewhat drowsy.

Unable to sense the nation's inner conflict, she just settled herself comfortably even as Hungary's thoughts ran in circles. On one hand, she was sure with the resources at her disposal she could easily find the girl some potential guardians amongst her people by a simple scan for potential couples that would love to have a child to care for. She could also just as easily ask France to deal with the issue, as the girl had been apparently living in his country at the time. Not to mention the girl was a human, as fleeting as a small breeze in the lifespan of a nation. On the other hand, it was clear no one would be looking for a child in such rags and wandering the streets. Not to mention, she didn't want to leave an innocent child to be discovered by any half baked dark wizard who might get curious about the residual dark magic on her. However, all those reasons fell short as the true reason made the decision for her.

Hungary was lonely.

Sure, she had plenty of friends, acquaintances, and allies to talk and hang around with. However all of them were nations and as such were almost always busy. In the last 100 years the amount of paperwork she had to do in a year had multiplied a hundredfold, as had the amount of diplomacy and politics she had to partake in. All of the countries she was close with were too busy trying to help their bosses fix their problems to indulge in their usual hobbies, not to mention her own economic and governmental problems that she couldn't so easily heap on her underlings any more. Without any border conflicts or wars to fight, she found herself doing more paperwork and politicking than ever, so her time to 'hang out' as the people are saying these days and indulge her hobbies was diminished. And by that reasoning, she couldn't find it in herself to interrupt Mr. Austria when he got time to play his favorite melodies, nor Germany and Italy when they got enough free time to have fun. She could always go hunting and/or pranking with Prussia, but he was only one person, and he had his own friends. _Truly, what has my life come to?_ Hungary just closed her eyes and sighed at the thought, wondering how best to approach the situation now that she had decided upon a course of action.

In the end, it was the girl herself, huddled up to her like a little hairless koala bear who gave her the perfect segway into the topic.

"Are uhh...are you my mummy?"

It came out hesitant, as though scared the question might offend the kind woman holding her as though she was precious, breakable china. Hungary just smiled lightly from above her even as her heart clenched painfully at the hopeful yet scared tone in her still immature voice. Hungary, like any woman, nation or not had contemplated the idea of having a child in the past. But her life as a nation had closed that road to her. Her life was one of bloodshed and war, and no way for a child to live, after living that life herself, she knew she didn't want it for any child, let alone her own. But even in this modern age of 'peace', the real problem with nations and children had stayed her from trying. She remembered the ancients, along with all those who had faded after them. Ancient Greece had faded only after her own son was born and growing. Germania had vanished after his sons Holy Rome and Prussia had succeeded him, taking his place. For nations, children meant death, after for some thousands of years of being one of the most powerful beings on Earth being replaced and essentially killed by ones' own beloved offspring. It was a frightening concept, signalling great change in ones people and government, whether rapid expansion and revolution, or complete degradation and collapse into a new country entirely. After over a millennia of satisfying life, even Hungary was not immune to the fear of death a child implied. Taking a deep breathe to settle her nerves after such an unknowingly loaded question, Hungary replied softly to her inquiry. "As long as you want me to be dear." It was unfortunately misleading, and she felt terribly guilty about using such deceitful words against the girl, but she couldn't bear to lie to her, with her skinny arms and large luminescent eyes, the child in her arms made for a very tragic(and soo very cute) picture of childish innocence.

The slightly dishonest words flew right over her head of course and the relieved, teary-eyed smile Hungary received in return was brighter than the sun and only succeeded in making her feel a bit guiltier, no matter how mushy it made the old warrior feel on the inside.

"Uhh... mummy?"

"Hmm?" she hummed curiously as the little girl in her arms squirmed in obvious discomfort.

"Uhh...whatsmynamewhatsyournamewhereareweareweathomedoyouknowwhyIcantrememberanythingdoIhaveapapa?" She was left breathing hard after letting all her questions out in one breathe. Hungary simply raised an eyebrow in amusement at the child huffing and red from embarrassment. Chuckling, she replied after a quick moment of contemplation, "Well, my name is Elizaveta Héderváry, your name is...Amira Héderváry. We are not actually at m-our home, but in a hotel room for my, uhh...business meeting, my husband and I separated some years ago and I'm afraid you cant remember anything because you recently hit your head pretty hard, and it caused you to forget everything." Most of that was at least true, in a manner of speaking. "The meeting is done though and it's time for us to take the train home." The newly named Amira just nodded distractedly as her eyes began to droop. Pulling the girl away from her bosom for a moment, Hungary chuckles as she pulls a handkerchief from thin air, dabbing gently at the tear-tracts and snot running down her new daughter's face. "Now I want you to do your best to sleep, because we have a long trip on the train ahead of us tomorrow. I need to take a shower and I'll join you after I'm done." The tiny brunette just nods her head obediently, too tired to argue as she stretches her arms above her head with a yawn. With a soft smile to hide her aching heart, Hungary leans in and kisses her adoptive child on the temple before tucking her back under the covers of the bed.

From the bed, the young Amira could swear she was looking upon the visage of an angel. Sitting on the side of the bed, Hungary, who was dressed in an exquisite forest green gown that matched her eyes and reflected the lamplight like dew in the early morning. Her pale brown locks that fell in gentle waves down past her shoulders and soft features that hid a powerful strength behind a kind smile which filled the girl's mind with images of rolling green hills and wild forests. Though she didn't actually know what an angel was, listening to her mother's voice as she quietly sang in a language she couldn't understand was what made her mummy divine in her eyes.

* * *

 **AN: Hey, this will probably be the first story I post on the site. I have other stuff in the works but this one just flowed in one night and I'll see where it goes if anywhere.**

 **I thought, lets try a Hungary finds young harry and through a series of events decides to keep him around. Then I thought, that's a bit too generic so let's make it fem!harry. It was a bit more dark/gorey than I had anticipated at first but It's not too visceral in my opinion. I'll try to keep it original after this so as to separate myself from other writers. I also intend to expand more on nations as a concept later on. There will be more HP stuff next chapter. I already hinted a few things.**

 **Also in this fic the Magic Trio are still the magic trio, but because they use magic the most out of all the nations. Though unlike canon Hetalia, magic is widely acknowledged by the countries, though America will still mess with England over it, and it will be more of a background issue as they still have to focus on the much larger muggle world** **.**

 **In regards to the register of names. I don't think even the founders would program the book to reinstate a child to the register after they had definitively been killed, no matter if the book records names when kids are born. After they die, the book would probably ignore them even if the signature reappeared, as it could be an attempt to mimick the signature of a dead child to plant a spy. Beyond that, no way to bring back the dead for real has ever been found in the HP world, so I doubt the founders would have factored that into the thing, much less a child being brought back.**

 **I also apologize to any French or German speakers for using google translate to butcher your languages**


	2. Solidifying the Bond

When Albus Dumbledore finally returned to his quarters adjacent to the Headmaster's Office of Hogwarts following a tiring series of meetings with the ICW in France, he almost didn't notice something had gone horribly wrong. Just halfway to closing the creaking door to his bedroom however he thinks that it is pleasant that there is none of the usual background white noise in his office that normally makes doing paperwork an exercise in futility. And unfortunate in that he usually couldn't put up a silencing charm as good as this lest he be deafened when an emergency required his attention.

Barely a fraction of a second later Albus nearly doubles over, stumbling in shock as he connects the dots, exhaustion forgotten as he dashes back to his desk with the speed to rival a muggle Olympian. As he frantically scans the various destroyed or failed devices littering his workspace, Dumbledore allows a rare moment of panic to overwhelm him as he stares at the devices which monitor the health, mood, and general location of the Girl-Who-Lived. His features contorting into an odd mix of confusion, shock, and horror as he frantically considers what could have possibly gone wrong.

Iris should've been perfectly safe under her aunt's roof, as the ward's surrounding her home in a scarlet glow that was only visible to a select few would cancel any hostile magic, including the Unforgivables before they could even form. Even muggle violence should have been impossible, unless her aunt and unc-Dumbledore goes stiller than death, the thought of the Dursley's abandoning little Iris despite the veiled warning about Tom so incomprehensible that he is forced to go back and reevaluate his mental picture of Petunia and her husband in an effort to understand as guilt begins to gnaw at his core. Her relatives abandoning her might very well have made the wards fall, as Iris was no longer welcome in their home, but most of the devices in his office were not tied to the blood wards, but rather to Iris herself, and looking forlornly upon the blackened husks still smelling of sulfur he knew without a doubt that there was only one way for all of them to have failed in his absence. Forcing down his growing dread a moment later Albus forced himself to calm down, the situation certainly didn't look good, but he had to verify the facts for himself before jumping to any admittedly logical conclusions. Hastily departing his office before sealing it behind him, as it wouldn't do to have Minerva walk into his office and start something before he can verify the situation, he moves through the castle halls faster than he has in decades. The stone halls of Hogwarts, normally alive with magic and life now looming and grim, the portraits which were usually equally happy to give out either a greeting or insult seemed unnaturally silent, ancient witches and wizards seemingly looking down upon him accusingly as Albus pretends not to be affected by their judging stares. Paying a curious Poppy Pomfrey and a dour looking Severus Snape no heed he finally races past the entrance to the Great Hall, pushing open the doors to the outside with a bang like thunder and reaching the gates of the castle a scant minute or two later, barely crossing the ward line before disapparrating with a faint pop.

Reappearing nearly silently, his bright moon patterned robes contrasting strikingly with the dull backdrop of Privet Drive, Albus steps out into the street from just in between two houses not even a hundred meters from Number four. Albus immediately looks up to the sky above Iris' home, no dark mark, he isn't sure whether that reassures him or worries him more however, as that means it's all the more likely the incident that caused his devices to fail was non-magical in nature. Quickly disillusioning himself with a thought, his form practically winks out of existence instantly while he scans the house and wards as he approaches from across the street. There are no signs of forced entry, the house is as dull and normal as it's neighbors, nor are the remnants of the wards showing signs that they were even touched before they fell, an unrelated incident then? Somehow he doubts it, Albus has lived too long and seen far too much to believe in chance anymore. Unfortunately, it took him a moment to notice that the car was actually not even present in the driveway, and Albus uncharacteristically cursed himself for not paying attention to the obvious details in his hurry to get answers. Stepping away from the door before he can even knock, he quickly glides across the street to Mrs. Figgs' house, dropping his disillusionment as he does so, hoping the old squib had managed to wrangle something out of Petunia before she left for wherever it was she departed to with Iris.

...

An unusually frantic looking Albus Dumbledore is the sight Arabella Figg is treated to as she opens her door far too early in the morning to be good for her mood. A worrying sight, as she hasn't seen him like that even once in all the meetings she'd had with him in the past. "Albus? what do you need? and why do you look so out of sorts?". Seemingly snapping out of whatever trance held him, the century old wizard visually composed himself, straightening out before his 'merlin damned' twinkle came back full force he enquires "Arabella, I must know, do you know where the Dursleys have gone with little Iris? It is imperative you inform me if you know anything!" He infuses just a small bit of compulsion into his words, normally he wouldn't resort to such dishonorable methods, but he is pressed for time and each moment could make all the difference. Mrs. Figg blinks for a moment but just creases her brow in faint worry, "I'm not sure why you're so frantic Albus, but Petunia did mention France a few days ago and since-" She doesn't even get a chance to finish her sentence as Dumbledore hastily thanks her before moving away and disappearing with a soft _crack,_ not even bothering to hide himself from view. Sighing to herself, she just rolls her eyes slightly at the audacity of the oddly dressed man before closing the door once again. Still, she cannot help but frown as she wonders about what sort of disaster was in the making that would so greatly ruffle Albus "Merlin Reborn"Dumbledore that he would even forsake propriety for the sake of speed.

...

It doesn't surprise Albus when he see's Minerva and Severus, pinched faces and all waiting outside his office when he returns, though he can't bring himself to give more than a noncommittal mumble as greeting before he excuses himself to his chambers despite their protests. Falling onto his bed as lazily as he will ever allow himself, he closes his eyes and wonders to himself, simultaneously confused and sorrowful when his own self image had grown so large that it obscured his vision.

...

..I am bad at writing Dumbledore...:(

* * *

Shimmering green fields and old forests zoom past at almost nauseating speeds, and Amira cannot help but be captivated by the endless expanse of nature's domain as individual trees flit in and out of her vision almost faster than she can see. To her, to see the golden rays of morning light weave themselves into every leaf, every blade of grass and suffuse the interior of the train car with their glow; Well, she couldn't be blamed for getting distracted and pressing her face against the glass of the window on her right, childish wonder at nature's beauty drowning out her mother's words about 'bosses' and 'annoying Prussians'. It's was an even better way to distract herself from trying to remember what her past was like. Every time she tried to think back, she would get really scared, bad enough that it even made her belly feel sick. After the second time she almost threw up, her mummy had told her while waving her hands all around that it was probably best to leave it alone and that she didn't want her to strain herself at all. She was still curious, but snuggled into her mother's arms that morning and dressed and fed better than she felt she deserved, it seemed just a bit less important.

Noticing her daughter's inattention, (and didn't that still make her want to flinch?) Elizaveta stopped her rant on the thickness of Prussian skulls and just chuckled lightly. Looking around herself, she admits it is an enchanting picture, a train full of kindly passengers illuminated by the glory of the sun's rays, and with nature on all sides, the scene makes for the perfect atmosphere for something she hasn't been able to do for a few weeks. Shifting a bit in her seat to get comfortable, Hungary's focuses her attention inward and her eyes lose their focus upon the visible plane as her consciousness expands, taking in _everything_ for miles in every direction now that physical barriers have become meaningless. If one were to describe the look in her eyes at that moment, they would say it was akin to looking down an endless aisle in a library, knowing that one could look forever and never comprehend all the information contained within. In the living idea's subtly glowing orbs, everything becomes clearer, shapes are sharper, colours more bright, light more luminescent, and every sensation a hundred times more powerful. Hungary's eyes become half-lidded as she immerses herself more deeply in the world's natural forces. Looking around her, everything exudes a soft inner light that is under the gaze of a nation, a thing of true magnificence. Her kind had never really had a name for the light, nor had they bothered to try and understand it. A nation's very existence was one carved from the blood of their enemies, not scholarly pursuit. But what they did know was that they too Shined, and in the presence of their nation, a citizen's light shined just a bit brighter. Many legends had sprung up throughout history of individuals who were able to fight just a minute longer, finish speeches of importance with unexpected power, or even deduce things that would have seemed impossible at first because they were empowered by the presence and support of their Nation. Hungary flexed her wrist slightly, and watched with a small smile on her face as two passengers in different parts of the train car smiled to themselves as their Shines rose in tandem with hers, even though they knew not why a part of them felt happier than ever to return home. Unfortunately they haven't crossed over her borders yet, so she cannot enjoy a complete immersion with the land, but to throw off the shackles of mortal sight, even temporarily is relieving regardless. That said, taking a moment to focus her attention downward, she just stares, fascinated by the flows of the key lines, magma tubes, and shifting plates that make up the Earth, and the glimmering layer of light that made up the life on the surface. It was like staring into a much more beautiful and rare kind of gemstone, and the sight of the thing which she is so deeply connected to brings about a sense of security and surety that Elizaveta welcomes wholeheartedly.

A few minutes later, she turns her head to her right, and is only stopped from stumbling by the fact that she is already sitting down, and even then she almost loses her concentration on maintaining her Sight. For there, radiating magic in small waves, is Amira's magical core, as bare to her eyes as any wizard's and a bit more sizable than usual as well. Now, Hungary likes to think of herself as observant of her surroundings, after over a millennia of near constant fighting, but she is honestly so caught off-guard that she wonders if the last few decades have softened her. A mischievous smirk firmly plants itself on her face as another thought offers itself up for perusal though. As a magical child, Amira would be privy to many of the world's deeper secrets by default, and many more besides given who would be raising her from that point on. Combined with the fact that wizards were notoriously tougher than non-magical people, and Elizaveta mentally rearranged some of her plans for the future. Chuckling, she closed her eyes this time as she reaches out a metaphysical hand and gives her daughter's magic a poke, leaving a ripple in the golden globe of power.

Not a minute earlier, little Amira is mesmerized by the vision in front of her, her open-mouthed expression eerily similar to those worn by love-potion victims. Her awe is near-instantly replace by mortification however, as a full body tingle goes down her spine, the weird poke in the lower back causing her to fall into a giggling fit. Her hands acting as poor mufflers to her laughing.

The sight is adorable enough to temporarily break her mother's poker face however, the half smile half smirk causing her face to twitch into a near constipated expression before she can control it again. The indignant four year old catches on nevertheless, and Elizaveta finds herself assaulted by the slightly chubby fists of an almost twenty pound embarrassed little girl. Amira hesitates though, not sure what to do when accosting one's mummy for tickling them when they least expect it. The choice is taken out of her hands when she is scooped off her seat with a squeak and nearly suffocated in the valley of her cooing mother's breasts. Flailing her arms wildly, the little girl with burning cheeks draws several amused chuckles and snorts from around the car as she flails helplessly.

A sound akin to an upset animal's growling brings the two of them out of their trance, and when Elizaveta lets Amira out of her bosom, the little girl has a scowl on her red face to rival Romano's and a bit of guilt showing through as well. Concerned and curious, she just turns her around and settles the toddler's head beneath her chin, "Didn't we eat just two hours ago? If you needed more, you could've just asked" she figured understanding and encouraging would be the best way to approach the situation. Amira fidgets slightly, and Elizaveta gets the distinct impression that there is a sullen expression on her little cherubic face. After a moment, "Freaks 'rn't s'pposed to ask fr tings" she mumbles quietly, hugging herself into a ball as she did so.

In the privacy of her thoughts, Hungary fury is practically _volcanic_ , disregarding that some information on Amira's past still lingered, she wished she could find whoever abandoned this sweet, heartbreaking child, and _rend_ them into pieces. Whatever hell awaited them in the beyond was but rainbows and kittens next to the agony she would inflict upon them. Midway into her teen years, Hungary had learned to appreciate the fairly carefree childhood she had when she was a young kingdom, before she was stuck in a century and half long conflict, and couldn't bear to see another child's ruined by adults(cough "Ottoman Empire" cough). Even as she reassures the slightly malnourished child who calls her 'mummy' that she can _always_ ask of her whatever she will and not be spurned, she vows to herself that should she ever come across her daughter's former guardian(s), she will personally rip their heads from their shoulders and mount them on the gates of Buda Castle, boss be damned. It wasn't like she did much for the government other than paperwork and diplomacy these days anyway. Purposefully taking a deep breath to soothe her nerves, Hungary finally calms and Elizaveta turns her attention back to the ebony haired bundle in her arms, ponderings of multiple homicide done. Her tiny chest rises and falls steadily even as her still open eyes begin to flutter, the brown haired woman smiles faintly at the sight, her fingers running soothingly through raven black tresses.

"...Luv you mummy"

The words are like poisoned barbs in the warrior nation's heart, and she is just barely able to keep herself from twitching or else making any other outward indication that she's been affected by the heartfelt words. Truthfully though, the wholehearted sincerity in the girl's words affects her more than she would ever admit. Sure she had gone out of her way to save the girl, fed her, clothed her, even given her a name, and was now on her way home with her; But the girl was _human_ , indefinite, and infinitely fragile. Every human Hungary had gotten to know had inevitably grown, withered, and eventually died; Even Maria Theresa, whom she had a great amount of respect for had gone the way of all humans and left her and Austria to their hastening decline. Resisting the urge to slam her head into a wall, Hungary's thoughts turned to Prussia, as they were wont to do when thinking on the past, and she remembers how he always speaks of his powerful bond with 'old Fritz'. From the look in his eyes, she supposes she always knew that in his own way, Prussia must have loved Frederick. Sighing again, this time in fond exasperation, she responds, though Amira has already fallen into the clutches of sleep, "I love you too, lánya ." "Besides", Hungary thought with a smirk and a visible glint in her eye, "I could never allow myself to fail in something of which Prussia has proven capable".

* * *

When the train finally reaches it's final stop in her borders, Amira is still asleep and Hungary deigns it better to let her sleep for a while so she can get them home and prepare lunch. Nodding to herself in affirmation and hefting her luggage, a suitcase and a child under one arm the nation, now clad in her usual green dress and apron sets one foot down on her own land and in an instant of blurred color their surroundings _shift_ , a full train station being replaced not with with a moderately large manor in the outer districts on Buda, but a field of chest-high grass, a moderately sized cottage sitting immaculately in the center of the clearing, and a wall of towering oak trees surrounding both. And though the cottage is only just tall enough to clear the top of the forest canopy, it is isolated and thus the tip of the roof sticks out among the treetops. Practically ancient by most anyone's standards, it was built in an amalgamation of European styles by Hungary herself over two hundred years before her great war with Turkey in the mid 15th century. Having added an extra story as well as some internal expansion enchantments some years ago as she ran out of space to store her accumulated treasures, she figured it would be best to continually update it as she felt necessary. Nowadays, while it did have some 'modern' additions such as functioning toilet and plumbing as well as water, she had yet to find the patience to wire the house with electricity herself and she didn't trust anyone enough to do it for her. She had been using oil lamps and candles for much of her life though, and torches before that, so it was no big loss. Not to mention she still used old fountain pens and parchment, as well as the same set of wooden cutlery and dishware that she had been using for over half her life, which were enchanted to be long-lasting. If it weren't for the lack of obviously magical items such as a potions lab or moving portraits one might even be inclined to think of it as a wizarding household, though it just happened to have lots of magical things in and around it as such things needed to be stored **somewhere**. She had never trusted the goblins of Gringotts anyway, they were honorable warriors, but as a nation, Hungary would never just trust another with her money, only feeling secure when it was stored in either a government controlled bank or one of her own homes. Stepping off the cobbled path onto the old porch, each step she took made her feel a little more at ease, the stress of politics and magical mysteries falling away like a heavy backpack at the end of a climb.

Her perpetually squeaky front door swinging open snaps her out of her reminiscing, Quickly shuffling over to the living room, which like the rest of the house was shaded in dark, earthy tones, she grabs an old quilt from the back of the armchair and wraps it about Amira as well as setting her down in front of the empty fireplace, all in under half a second. Hesitating only briefly, she swiftly moves in and places a small kiss on the girl's forehead before nation-stepping into her kitchen, cheeks burning. Elizaveta sighed, frankly she still had no clue what she was doing, she hadn't really done the whole 'guardian' thing in over a hundred years, before Italy moved out of Mr. Austria's house. Even when they were all together and Holy Rome was still around, they were still nations and being a nation wasn't something any of them could ignore. That they, as human personifications, living ideas even, all had responsibilities that couldn't be so easily forgotten, no matter how peaceful and _domestic_ their lives had been rankled them. Scowling at her own negativity, she immediately banished her depressing thoughts to the back of her mind where they usually resided, and determinedly set her attention on making enough Goulash to feed all of Detroit for the starved child in the next room.

* * *

Sitting in her study on the second floor of her home that same night, Hungary set down her pen and looked up from the stack of paperwork she was working on. The moon was full tonight and she'd always taken the time to admire it in the past. Tonight, the fireflies had come out from their nests and provided a beautiful contrast with the silver rays of moonlight alighting upon the grass, it was in a word...magical, unsurprising considering she lived in the heart of an unplottable forest that stretched hundreds of kilometers in every direction. That is not to mention all of the usual creatures she could feel congregated in her forest: Centaurs, Unicorns, Bundimuns, Doxys, Graphorns, even a mooncalf just within her range of vision. Unlike most times, the various creatures were more or less ignoring each other, or rather, they were dare she say it, _friendly_. On any other day Hungary would have snorted at her own sentimentality in thinking such a thing, she had always been more of a ma-err, woman of action than one of idioms and philosophy, but certain issues in the near future had had her introspective more than was usual for her.

Rising from her far too comfortable armchair, she turns her attention away from the outside as she goes around her desk and towards the door. She has things to do and the full moon is the best time to do them to ensure optimal results. Magic was fickle like that and in order to do the ritual she intended in the **way** she intended, she would need that bit of extra oomph that the light of a full moon could provide. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she blurred and stepped into her dining room, another step, and the room was clear of furniture and the floor was spotless of residue. Looking blankly down at the hardwood floor for a moment, she sighed and then called upon something she hadn't used in over a century. A wand, 14 inches, Oak and Turul feather core, taken from her own animagus form. She hadn't made it herself, she had never bothered to learn the craft, but she could also honestly say she had forgotten the name of the one who made it, as she had only used it a sparse few times in that first century after she got it. Unfortunately she doubted he forgot her however, as the man had looked at the feather she had given him like it was a priceless gemstone and near demanded she tell him what it was, and she somewhat regretted that, as wandmakers everywhere had been told to have been searching for Turuls to make wands for Hungarian wizards for some centuries afterward. Hungary had even seen a few wands of the type, as she had sometimes used her animagus form to go flying and occasionally shed feathers which were picked up by curious wandcrafters, though they had fallen out of prominence in the last two hundred years as they weren't common enough to be made and sold. Considering Hungary herself was the only source of them however, it was a wonder they gained as much fame as they did.

Contemplation of the past pushed aside, Hungary waved the wand once, summoning an assortment of objects from whichever of her storage rooms held the ritual and potions ingredients. Another flick and they were sorting themselves alphabetically on a table which sprung into existence just before the first item could lower itself onto it. Only sparing the assorted ingredients a passing glance out of the corner of her eye, even as she winced at the amount of items whose preservation charms had failed, she turned to the stone ritual table which was now sitting in the middle of her dining room. This was the part she was more comfortable with; Taking a dagger from...somewhere which had the same mother-of-pearl glow as her other weapons, she nicked her wrist slightly and began drawing a circle on the stone with a slight brush. The standard blood adoption ritual would usually be enough for this kind of thing, but Hungary was no ordinary human witch, and some modifications were necessary to ensure she didn't fade from existence the moment the ritual was completed.

Finally finished with the circle, a good meter's radius she noted, she took out a ruler and compass, marking with chalk seven points equally distributed around the circle. Taking the time to draw seven small circles of equal size around those points. Then she drew another circle using all of the smaller circle's innermost points on the larger one, and on the outer edge of that, she finally began the part that came most easily to her, the runes.

Most of the nations worldwide were practiced in magic, some more than others but Hungary, and by that meaning her people, were extremely fond of fighting, as evidenced by her conquest of Europe during the 11th century. For centuries muggles had worn armor and wizards robes, but even before Hungary became a kingdom, her people had adopted the idea of armor like the muggles, and flexibility like wizard's robes. Wanting to have both, her people used runes learned from Greece's and Egypt's people to make clothing which could save you from both a ballistae shot to the gut, leaving only a minor bruise, or a cutting curse to the groin, disrupting and absorbing the spell's power without using active spells. That skill in Runes, which while normally used for combat by Hungarian wizards, was what she was using here. Using very precise applications of her strength, the magyar slowly carved the necessary runic incantations for the blood adoption ritual, letting drops of her blood drip down the knife, filling the runes precisely. After making sure none of her blood got anywhere it shouldn't on the slightly modified ritual, she stood and surveyed her work. Finding no flaws despite being so long out of practice, she drew one last circle, this time using the outermost edges of the seven smaller circles instead of the inner. Taking a deep breathe, Hungary refreshed the cut on her wrist, as the last one had already regenerated and began carving more runes. This one was another set of seven phrases in seven scripts rolled into one, each one from one of the native lands of one of the sacrifice ingredients, and all designed solely to stabilize and strengthen the ritual so that one, it didn't just blow her house into the sky, and two, that no one, no matter how powerful could alter or cancel the effects unless they were her. Normally this wouldn't be necessary, but rituals were not meant to be changed once a good method was found, and doing so usually ended in the gruesome death of the caster and sometimes the recipient(s) of the ritual. Hungary knew that wouldn't be a problem for her, as countries could not be killed through destroying their avatars after all, but she **did** need the ritual to work.

Finally done with the tedious part, Hungary stood and stretched, absentmindedly banishing her tools back into the ether(or wherever items she wasn't using went) she waved her wand, calling to her the necessary ingredient sacrifices for the blood adoption ritual. Carefully setting the appropriate ratios of each into their respective circles, she opened her Vision for a moment, ensuring there was no unnecessary magic around that could interfere, though she had checked beforehand. Finding nothing Hungary nodded to herself unnecessarily before blurring for a moment, reappearing with the still sleeping Amira in her arms. Starting for a moment, as though realizing something unexpected, Elizaveta chuckled mirthlessly, "A dolog, amit nem" the mutter coming out with a hint of humour regardless. Regaining herself, Hungary carefully peeled off Amira's nightdress, setting her down softly in the center of the ritual circle once she finished. Taking out a thin brush, Hungary once more cut herself and let blood flow from her hand. This time she painted a few sets of symbols on her to-be daughter's chest, stomach, and forehead. Three locations, three incantations in each one to match the three circles on the ritual table, and three different sets of incantations overall, two of which were of seven pieces, making for two sets of three and two sets of seven, making a solid four, theoretically anyway. And four, while not the most preferred number for her to use as the overall number behind the magic she was going to do in a moment, it would be enough once she had the final component of the process.

Looking up, Hungary waved her wand, opening up her skylight to the night sky clear of light pollution and thus allowing the light of a midnight full moon to illuminate the ritual circles. Luckily, Elizaveta had done everything non-magical she could to ensure Amira would sleep like a rock for the next half a day, allowing her ample time to conclude her magical business before she awoke. Warping reality for a moment, Hungary stepped forward a step, now completely clean of blood and other debris, as well as having her hair tied back and in a simple net. Wand in hand, she began incanting the first chant of the ritual. A weak breeze picked up and Hungary continued unphazed, switching between the sets of incantations regularly, making sure to say them all smoothly and without stutter, whilst at the same time switching rapidly between dialects and entire languages, yet somehow making them all sound correct when used in conjunction with each other. Her wand has been moving steadily in a series of patterns which eventually point to each sacrifice as they burn one by one, the smoke and flames lingering for a moment before blowing into the blood runes, which glow a bit more gold each time. Now Hungary barely has time to take in enough air to make sounds as she continues, only kept from stopping to choke by the fact that her body isn't necessarily limited by a need for oxygen. The wind had picked up, now a moderate gale, though it affected the ritual table not at all, and Amira was glowing, as the symbols on her began to resonate with those on the table. Nearing the end of the rite, Hungary watched as the last sacrifice burned in an instant, the ash and embers infusing themselves with the runes, which now all glowed as she finished the last incantation. Waiting barely a tenth of a second, she _pushed_ her power and will into the waiting circle, activating it and causing a flash of light that even to Hungary was a bit uncomfortable. The surge of power from the ritual, combined with the power of the full moon and the that of an entire nation was enough to send the woman sprawling as she was slammed into the wall on the opposite side of the room with enough force to dent steel had it not been for the ancient strengthening charms in the wood, only to cut off abruptly as it's purpose was achieved.

Elizaveta sighed, relieved despite herself. She was confident in her abilities as an Enchanter and Runes Master, but the magic she just performed was extremely dangerous. Not only was it a modified version of a known ritual, it was performed using unusual components and using a not-as-stable number of stabilizing and strengthening chants, all using the blood of a nation as the vessel for the power. Quite frankly, if she hadn't seen it work just now and had she a bit less faith in her own abilities, she wouldn't have believed it possible, as the whole process had to be perfect, including nonstop chanting, which considering the amount of it she had done, was actually impossible for a human with a normal or even better than average lung capacity.

Scraping herself off the floor, Elizaveta quickly glided back to the stone table, which was now bare of any markings, and observed the results of her efforts. The whole thing had enough power behind it to overwrite anyone's DNA, and her daughter,(which was now an accurate statement) looked more similar to her than before. They both had already possessed vivid green eyes, and that hadn't really changed, though they were now a tad brighter than before. But the real proof came in the rest of her; Whereas before her skin had been unhealthily pale, even sallow, it was now a light tan that spoke of a healthy amount of time outdoors. Her body shape as well had similarly changed, her malnourished, toddler sized body had been bony before from less food but still hinted at a thin body type regardless. Now she took up more space on the stone table and looked like Hungary imagined she might have a bit over nine hundred years ago, having a slightly more solid build and many of her softer features rather than sharp, aristocratic ones of the nobility. The final change being in her hair, which while still darker than hers, now had the same slight wave hers did and had lightened considerably, being a deep dark chocolate brown with auburn rather than crimson highlights.

There was more to how she had changed, but needless to say she hadn't made Amira a personification, as doing so would likely have resulted in Hungary either becoming ill and dying shortly thereafter, or disappearing entirely before she had time to react. Had she not modified the ritual, Amira would have (probably) become a personification, and being Hungary's daughter, could have quite possibly replaced her, killing her in the process and leaving Amira alone anyway. So she had changed it, allowing the ritual to make some changes, and binding the others before they could take effect. If she had done it the way she intended, Amira should have a heavy tie to anything Hungarian, being able to speak Hungarian as though she had been doing it for years, perpetuating stereotypes and subconsciously knowing everyone and everything within it's borders and about it. Unlike her however, she would not be able to just shrug off death as she was not actually a living idea which couldn't be killed by mortal means, nor would she be able to look into her being and read every mind that had ever lived in Hungary's borders, as that would have destroyed her human mind from all the pressure of tens of millions of consciousnesses. She was merely a very, **very** durable human with deep ties to the country itself, which probably meant she would live for a long time, if not indefinitely if she spent much of her time inside her borders(so long as Hungary didn't fall anyway). And that was assuming she didn't get herself killed in the future. This also had the unfortunate side effect of hastening her death should the nation of Hungary fall anytime in the next 60 years, as said event would probably rip her apart from the stress and thus kill her. She digressed however, you couldn't always have your cake and eat it too, she would deal with such things in the future where they belonged.

Seeing that the ritual succeeded, Hungary whistles to herself in admiration of her own skill, basking silently for a moment before she picks up her daughter, hastily redressing her in her nightgown before walking back to her bedroom, leaving her dining room untouched, furniture back in place as though it were never gone and the ritual table nowhere to be seen. The only sign something had happened as Elizaveta lay down under her sheets with her child being the skylight downstairs closing softly with a click as the full moon passed midnight, leaving the room no different than it had been a half hour before. Hugging the slightly bigger four year old to her chest, Hungary closed her eyes and dreamed, of the future, of moments to be shared, adventures to partake in, and introdu-Hungary stiffened slightly, a slight downturn of the lips the only sign of her irritation.

She hadn't thought to tell any of the other nations that she basically had a child out of the blue. One who already looked like a five year old.

Damn.

 **AN: Well that's chapter two, the seconds half of this just came to me and I wrote it up tonight, 6.5k seems good. I don't think it was as good as the first chapter, not as action packed or dramatic, but I felt the transitory stuff needed to be addressed, and there will surely be some of that adventure that I promised next time. Also some more nations will cameo**

 **On the blood wards. I distinctly remember something about them failing if 'harry' either gets kicked out/no longer considers the place home.**

 **On the X-ray nation vision, I figured it's like looking at the natural forces of the world through the eyes of a being that is partially a part of it, being tied to a large mass of land after all.**

 **Nation walking is sort of an anime thing, they can basically just go wherever they want whenever they want, so physical limitations such as 'location' and 'walls' shouldn't mean much to them. If they are basically the land you're walking on, shouldn't their body be able to be where ever they want it to be?**

 **Also, I have read a few fics where the nations can basically 'tune in' to the collective knowledge and minds of their people and I thought it was pretty cool.**

 **I also have a headcanon that the magical creatures of the world have much more space to roam as wizards basically go around making massive amounts of land Unplottable so as to have room for magic stuff. Otherwise there would be no way wizards could completely hide dragon lairs or flobberworms from being found by average muggles. and who would even notice a muggle discovering something as useless as that unless all the land they live in was made 'magic only'?**

 **A Turul is a divine symbol to the Hungarian people, look it up.**

 **The blood adoption ritual is mostly canon stuff. The things about threes and sevens being the most stable and powerful magical numbers respectively, and using them in spells make for spells with said qualities. Blood is common in rituals and sacrifices of certain things as well.**


	3. A Chase and Discovery

Excitement Chapter 3

The moment consciousness returned to Amira she was assaulted by a large amount of near entirely foreign sensations that left her in a state of shock, unable to formulate intelligent thought or even the presence of mind to exercise her eyes. For as long as her limited child mind could recall or comprehend, she had been living in a state of perpetual discomfort that never abated, to the point that she had accepted it as the baseline of feeling. Her continued hunger pangs, bad vision, weak muscles, and even her stunted stature were things that followed her into her new life after 'being hit on the head' regardless of the fact that she held no recollection of how she gained such ailments. And so even though only a day and a half had passed in her perspective since awakening without any substantial memories, the sudden lack of aches and pains that her subconscious still recognized as 'default' caused the toddler to have a near-shutdown at the pleasant ache of muscles well rested by sleep which she had never to her knowledge experienced. The feeling of silken sheets and the alluring warmth that they provide, as well as the feeling of two strong arms encircling her small body in reaction to the first golden rays of dawn nevertheless soon caused her to awaken from her stupor.

Eyes shooting open, Amira immediately sat up in bed, breaking the embrace that held her as she just gaped at nothing, a full and unencumbered breathe of air filling her lungs. She had felt energized before, excited even, and the energy that filled her then made her want to just jump up and touch the azure sky; This however, this amount of energy flowing through her still child sized body made her feel like her veins had been replaced with liquid determination and the strength to accomplish anything, she felt like that man from the story she was pretty sure she heard once, Heracles. Though she was now sharp enough to notice that the sicknesses that induced her previous levels of weakness were gone TOO suddenly, it was just as well that she was too enamored with just how GOOD she felt, and how each movement of her muscles, conscious or not, felt meaningful to care as her next actions proved a sufficient distraction.

Seeing that as long as she could remember(not all that long, she thought in restrospect), she had been weak, when she moved to throw all her weight into her outstretched arms, leaning forward in the bed, she expected pushing her small frame just off the side of the bed and onto the floor, instead she propelled herself forward and slightly up, hurling herself unexpectedly into the air as a completely non-girlish shriek escaped her throat which she would heartily and vehemently deny afterwards. Luckily the room was large and the floor had been charmed to absorb impacts so as to avoid broken trinkets or dishware when Hungary dropped something. Upon landing face first on the wooden floor, and not exactly comfortably, Amira merely laid there a moment, confused and strangely excited. When she moved to put her hands on the ground to push herself up, she yet again miscalculated the amount of effort it would take to push herself to her feet and ended up pushing hard enough to flip herself onto her back, somewhat knocking the wind out of her.

Her attempts at standing were interrupted by a sound which while soft, still sounded as though it were muffled behind something, which turned out to be her mummy's hand as she attempted to stifle amused chuckles which bubbled heavily in her throat. Red faced with mortification, Amira pushed one last time, landing on her feet this time even as the push sent her a foot into the air before she came down. She pointed an accusing finger at her still incapacitated mother "Ez nem vicces!" she declared indignantly. "I-Igen, az" Elizaveta shakily responded in Hungarian, even as her laughs died down to holding her gut in a futile attempt at holding them in as she stole another glance at the tiny eruption in the form of a child, causing them to escape once more. By the time she managed to calm herself, she was still grinning like a maniac, wiping some nonexistent grime off her forehead as she stood, turning her attention back to her daughter only when she was sure she wouldn't lose control of herself again.

Only she wasn't paying the older woman any attention, her confusion now practically saturating the air as she stared down at herself as though befuddled by some grand mystery which required the utmost of her attention and willpower. The sight was such a comical one on a toddler that Hungary decided to turn her attention inwards in an effort to avoid knocking herself over with laughter for a second time that morning.

Internally sighing, she watched as the young child in front of her puzzled out why her words sounded so weird yet still made sense with a vaguely frustrated pout starting to form on her lips. After her realization the previous night, many concerns that seemed logical in hindsight became glaringly obvious to the female nation. Not the least of which was how much to tell her daughter about the nature of the world around her. For a child who had probably spent the majority of her short existence in some dark cellar, many of the ideas that now permeated her life would likely send her reeling in shock, and Hungary really had no clue how to go about addressing the issue. For her entire existence, she had dealt mostly with adults, or at least individuals who understood their place in the world and accepted the consequences of their actions. Even child nations were very wise for all they appeared and acted like morons half the time. And though she had seen many of her bosses' and other citizen's children, she had never spent any prolonged amount of time around them, understanding their importance as the future of her people yet dismissing them for their inexperience all the same.

That inexperience in handling human children was coming back to bite her now, as she had no idea what to tell the child she had decided to make her own, moreso than she considered the rest of her people her children anyway, about her life. What would she say? That she was a near-immortal being that personified a society of people? Or that she had used magic to basically heal her of near any physical imperfection and adopt her at the same time? Maybe even that the reason she was having trouble remembering things was because she had been killed by a human-trafficker who shot her when his fear of Hungary overwhelmed his common sense. She knew that if it had been Italy she was talking to, as she and Austria had taught him much in the absence of old man Rome, then he would have been informed of such developments, and they would have been secure in the knowledge that he could handle it as long as they weren't too harsh(he was so sensitive, even then). Now however, she was dealing with a human, albeit a very _improved_ human child, and one who had already suffered so much it still affected her at times and Hungary was fearful she might say something wrong, too harsh, or unclear.

A moment of internal panicking later, even as her face remained expressionless and Hungary shook her head imperceptibly, a small frown adorning her lips when she was interrupted by the feeling of small, chubby hands patting her legs insistently, a voice matching the hands expressing concern for her in Hungarian. Snapping out of her moment of self reprimandation, Elizaveta bent down and hefted her daughter from under her arms and smiled at her, the brilliant grin that lit the entire room with it's glow causing Amira to stop and gape at the majesty of it, and proceeded to bullshit so hard Germany would have been hard pressed to accuse her of being anything but a saint. The skill had served her well as a toddler wandering Eastern Europe on her way to the Carpathian Basin and it would serve her well here. Not a single adult human questioned her when she started talking, and she had made the migration to Europe easily, even if she didn't know why she was going there at the time.

Her daughter had accepted her explanations about the world even faster than Italy had, and the altered truths she had spewed were already churning her gut with a vague guilt that only grew as she spotted the innocent, wide-eyed acceptance in that oh-so familiar face. Seeing as she had brought Amira to her house in a magical forest, which was infused with magic and housed a large number of magical artifacts, she had informed her of their status as witches, able to use magic to alter reality to their whims, though she had to suppress her hatred when the girl flinched at the word "magic" in a manner that reminded her of how she had acted on the train. It just made one of her theories on her daughter's previous life all the more plausible; It was seeming more and more likely that whoever she had lived with before had something against magic, or had hurt Amira with it enough that she still subconsciously feared it, though the lack of curse remnants on her person when she found her indicated the former. However when she had summoned a ball of light in her palm, the wonder that graced her daughter's face at the brightly glimmering light disabused her of that notion and brought a soft smile to Elizaveta's lips. Figuring she could use a little practice while they were demonstrating magic, she had dismissed the light and summoned a flame before manipulating it into various shapes, Dragons, lions, and eagles flying and prancing through the air around them as she subtly waved her fingers about. Even Hungary had to admit her heart was more at ease after watching the display with all the lights in the house snuffed and the curtains closed. After that demonstration, Amira had immediately requested that she be taught 'how to do stuff like that' in that innocent tone that only small children could pull off. Elizaveta had twitched, her face taking on a constipated expression as she briefly weathered her daughter's large green eyes and posture that just _screamed_ of an innocent, earnest desire to learn.

As much as she was enjoying herself however, no matter how much her soul was eased just by having this small interaction with such an innocent soul, Hungary was still plagued by her worries. She knew having Amira around would cause her trouble with a number of parties, she _knew_ that the other nations would all flip over the revelation, and that her boss would do the same(if he found out). She was even aware of the dangers that would come with raising her with magic in her life and how eventually her nation status would be uncovered. But Hungary had never been a being ruled purely by logic, in the past she had even believed herself to be a man and that her man-parts would simply grow in! This time was no different, technically, and despite all of the problems coming her way in the future, she wanted to teach a child of hers some of the skills she had been allowing to grow rusty, to do something exciting with someone she cared about because she was Just. Plain. Bored. For all that every nation in the world had a hobby, something they had been doing forever if only just to stave off boredom, sometimes it just wasn't enough. Usually Hungary would have just been able to ride out to her borders and fight some Turks, Germanics, or even Frenchmen; Perhaps challenge a dozen wizards to a duel and come out on top; Or maybe even just hang around with one of her allies or friends. And if that failed, there had always been some sort of court intrigue or war going on that the king would need her to handle. But after the first Great War, Hungary had felt like she had been torn in half, and along with all the other Central Powers had been bedridden for months, and had never recovered her full strength; Then with the founding of NATO not 30 years later, it seemed no one was fighting anymore, all of the regular conflicts, banditry, and even the brutal politics that she had grown used to were suddenly nowhere to be found and Hungary, along with the other nations were left floundering without purpose. For without something to defend your people against, what was the point of having something as powerful as a Nation around anyway? And yet it seemed their governments had found a use for them after all...signing paperwork.

To her, it was double edged sword, on one hand she was grateful her people no longer had to fight constantly to survive, the two Great Wars having devastated her population and economy more than almost any of her previous conflicts. On the other hand her people lived off fighting, and by extension so did she, as without it they would never have made for such a strong presence in Europe and would never have come as far as they did. Even after having no real conflicts for over 40 years her blood still sang of battle, and often she would take any opportunity to start a fight with another nation, as they were some of the only beings that could fight another on equal terms, and she suspected Prussia did the same, just on a larger scale so as to include everyone. She was sure many were grateful(though they would never express it aloud), and she was too, another uninterrupted year of signing documents and managing the economy and she would snap.

Hugging her daughter closer to her chest for a long moment, Elizaveta put her down and suppressed her melancholy feelings. Gazing at the little girl who looked so much like her she decided that even if it couldn't last for eternity, she would make the best of the time they had; No politics, no enemies, and no obligations. She chuckled slightly, there was no time like the present after all, and she was fairly certain she had a few old magic textbooks lying around **somehwere**...

* * *

Early winter in central Europe was not only bone-chillingly cold, it was cloudy. For several weeks the weather in this in this particular region of the world had been dreary, the land beneath the temporary mountains of gray and white drained of color as the sun's rays were restricted to those beings who could traverse the skies above them. For many of the citizens of Hungary, magical or otherwise, this particular day had been even more draining than usual, the expected rain or snow having failed to show itself and the anticipation had everyone on edge. It seemed as though there was nothing that could break the sheer monotony that was this particularly droll morning when a shrill cry pierced the veil of boredom around them, echoing twice, three times as a bird, many times larger than anyone would expect an avian of any species to be passed over a local wizard's community at speeds that could seemingly rival the fastest brooms.

Most wizarding communities had long histories, and thus even longer memories. In Hungary, there had almost always been legends of a bird, resembling a falcon in shape and yet larger than any known eagle that would appear to the Magyar people in times of strife, and it's call would always bring unto them the determination to move forward when all seemed lost. It's appearances had grown so frequent and it's presence so welcomed that it's shape became a near holy symbol to their entire people, eventually being named as Turul. Over time however, evidence of it's existence had been questioned and sightings of the bird were rarer than those of phoenixes, so infrequent that most considered them myth, and most foreign wizards and even muggles saw the symbol as just that, an idea for the Hungarians to rally behind. If it weren't for the existence of wands made from their feathers, then it was likely most of Hungary's people wouldn't believe in them either, despite attempts by many to make comparisons to Grypphon and Harpy feathers. It was only confirmation by several wandmakers that the substances were inherently different that allowed the mythical bird a place in Newton Scamander's "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them", though information on it was still scarce despite attempts to rectify the situation.

Many theorists on both sides of the argument would be silent now, as they were all too entranced by the sight of one of the mythical birds as it soared over mainland Hungary. Even from a distance it was obvious on the eye, its feathers reflecting light like water and their color akin to that of the darkest soil. Larger than even the tallest of men, it's apparent height and wingspan were enough that most rather accurately assumed the creature to be an older specimen. From it's cry however age was apparently a non-factor, as the sound seemed to part the very low-hanging clouds as if they were but a curtain, allowing beams of life giving sunlight to illuminate empty fields and revitalize dark forests. Even the grays of concrete and cement in the cities seemed closer to silver than grey as the bird ascended beyond the limited vision of the awed onlookers.

...

A few hours later, Mykey Gregorovich sat in his shop, comfortable as he enjoyed his morning coffee. Though that didn't last long as he took a spit take the moment his eyes landed on the headline of Hungary's most prominent magical newspaper, staining his robe. Scowling slightly, he took a moment to clean his robes before looking more closely at the article. He didn't live in Hungary, but he had sold a few of the supposed Turul feather wands, regardless of their dubious origin, as unlike that narrow-minded Brit Ollivander, he didn't restrict himself to three types of wand core. Upon further perusal however, he just had to let out a laugh, the evidence given seemed pretty solid, so he didn't see much of a reason to disbelieve the story.

Garrick would owe him fifty galleons next time they met.

* * *

As they passed through the lower layer of the brewing snowstorm, four year old Amira Héderváry finally managed to restrain herself from squealing loudly in a combination of fear and jubilation once the ant-like people and twig sized buildings on the ground were no longer visible. All around her, wisps of ash gray air obstruct her vision and deposit small droplets of ice water on her person, obscuring everything but the feathers of the large avian beneath her legs. It is an almost oppressive feeling, and she just manages to keep herself from cringing, instead focusing on the wind screaming in her ear as they continue to rise.

Amira isn't sure if she was imagining it later, but she was certain she could feel a sense of comfort emanating from her mother's feathered form once they passed into the cloud layer, filling her head with images of brave warriors and her heart with strength; She was infinitely grateful for it.

A minute later, she is still trying to calm her racing heart as her chest thrums with adrenaline, her arms seemingly shaking as cold, nervous energy pulses through her arteries. One particularly powerful beating of wings interrupts her fidgeting though and send's her mother's body speeding forward and up, at last breaking them through the upper cloud layer like a salmon leaping from a rushing river. As the white-gray puffs of mixed air finally part over her head and leave them exposed to open air, Amira is forced to close her eyes with a hiss as a searing light assaults her darkness adjusted irises.

When the pain fades and she manages to keep her eyes open without blinking, a gasp tears it's way out of her throat involuntarily, though she doesn't notice as her attention is riveted to the open landscape before them. Hungary, though less impressed as she has often seen such sights, still finds herself a bit more appreciative than she would be usually, taking the time to open her Vision for a moment and observe one of nature's most impressive creations. Leveling out just a meter above the pearlescent surface below her, Hungary glides softly, just letting the softer winds from above the clouds caress her belly and wings.

The young child riding on her back however, has no previous experience with such things and can only blink away tears at the sight, though whether from the rushing wind in her eyes or from the majesty of heaven's landscape she can't tell. For as far as either of their eyes can see is an endless expanse, filled with white, pink, gray, and orange mountains which litter the horizon for what seems to be hundreds of kilometers in all directions. Yet none seemed to be the same, each one having a unique shape and color that constantly shifted, faster than even Amira's improved green orbs could follow. The part that really caused her to lose her breathe, and nearly her grip, if the not-so-subtle jerk from beneath her was any indication, was the sun itself. Even as the sound of rushing air faded around her, she could only stare as her muscles relaxed, her spine loosened, and her breathe came out all at once. A ball of white-gold flames, the sun was seemingly more alive now than it ever had been in her eyes, an annoying part of waking up in the morning becoming Helios' charge, the rays of light which usually burned now transformed into woven gold that splashed like water onto the usually flat white clouds, leaving them vibrant and contracting as though with a life of their own.

Feeling an inexplicable urge, Amira doesn't even hesitate to comply, carefully taking her arms away from the feathers which she previously had in a death grip and raising them to shoulder height.(below her, Hungary squawks and has to physically stop herself from jerking into a panic as her daughter released her grip on her feathers) Taking a deep breath, she exhaled all at once with a yell: " **WOOOOOOOO** " of course it sounded very silly coming from the high-pitched voice of a little girl, but she didn't care, and the echo coming back at her gave her some perspective on how very **large** the sky truly was.

Steadying herself, she just continued to hold out her arms at her sides, head turned to the side with her eyes closed and a small , genuine smile gracing her lips as silence engulfed them in the absence of her mummy's beating wings.

Opening her eyes once more, Amira can feel herself tearing up again, and sniffs a few times, trying to hold back tears as waves of love wash over her, and she cannot help but smile no matter how much her eyes still sting. She doesn't know much about the world, or her own life before her accident, but she has a mummy that loves her and goes on adventures with her, and that's more than she ever thought she'd have when she lived in the cupboard.

...

A few minutes later, and Hungary could faintly hear rushing wind several kilometers behind them, and nearly dismissed it out of hand, not really paying much attention to mere wind. But a few minutes later and it is only when she banks left and sees half a dozen human shaped figures zooming towards them that she internally curses herself for being so obvious in her ascent. Outwardly, she screeches, getting the attention of both Amira and the broom riders before she dives, barely allowing Amira time to grab hold as she squeaks in terror. Not missing a beat, the collection of wizards follow her into the clouds.

The first of the group to approach the point where Hungary dropped out of sight is unfortunately the first to be felled, bodily thrown from his broom when a massive weight crushes in his ribcage. His teammates cries of outrage and panic going unheard as the only thought running through his mind was that apparently mountain trolls had started being born with wings before darkness claimed him.

The rest of the wizards were competent enough that their panic only lasted a moment, one of them hitting their fallen companion with a stasis spell that will keep him from dying, his emergency portkey activating whilst the rest already have spells on their lips. A few shouted commands from one of them, and Amira squeaks as a bolt of glowing red magic barely passes over her head, the crackling heat causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end even as she presses herself flat against her mother's feathered back. She has no time to compose herself however, as Hungary's angered screech and subsequent dime-turn forces her to grab on with an iron grip.

The foreign wizards, for that is plainly what they are to Hungary's senses, continue to fire at her last visible location, using a collection of stunning, blasting ,and compulsion spells. Being sure to keep up a continuous stream of spellfire even as the last two hold shield charms over the rest. In the cloud said animagus nation was forced to roll in order to avoid another volley of multi-colored lights, which somehow still manage to find her despite the low visibility provided by the weather. Had she a face at the moment she would have scowled in irritation. Normally she would have been glad to engage some random wizards in aerial combat, give her animagus form some exercise, but she had precious cargo with her this time, and she didn't have the means to transport her back to the house without getting bombarded by a dozen stunning and confundus charms.

Jerking abruptly to the right and out of the cloud cover to avoid yet **another** jet of red light, Hungary began to flap for all she was worth, pushing as much speed as possible into her wings in an effort to get their pursuers to follow. The poachers, figuring their quarry was attempting to flee, gave chase; Their brooms managing to keep up despite the harsh weather and continued strain of use. Not wanting to gain too much distance, Hungary slowed her pace slightly, still giving the appearance of panicked flight yet still just evading spellfire. Their entourage was persistent however, and two members broke off in an attempt to surround her, all the while keeping up with harassing her from three sides.

Looking forward for an instant, she would have jumped for joy at the approaching wall of clouds, it's cover being exactly what she needed to get out of of this without any unnecessary complications. All the dodging and weaving through a hail of magical attacks had not been meaningless. A few circles just after they had engaged her and she had managed to identify which wizard was tracking her location even through the heavily opaque snow clouds. It didn't matter if he somehow sensed what she did in a moment, as so long as she did things right, he would die and they would be gone before anyone would be the wiser and at five hundred meters or so in front of her and she was confident it would work.

At four hundred, she flinched as a blasting curse detonated just behind her tail feathers, the heat uncomfortably close as it singed her.

At three hundred, she spun quickly as a cutting curse nearly hit Amira, ripping a squawk from her even as the magic hit her instead.

Two hundred, and she had to quickly dive and ascend to avoid a large radius _bombarda._ She really wanted to kill them now.

One hundred, and she mentally prepared herself, ensuring her target was just behind her.

Fifty meters.

Twenty five.

Ten meters, she tensed the muscles in in her wings in preparation.

The moment she passed out of visual range of the magical hunters, Hungary focused, and _shifted_ , into a different form. Shimmering feathers disappeared and were replaced with dark scales. Her sharp beak morphed and became a somewhat rounder snout, filling out with teeth that looked capable of chewing diamonds. Her entire form grew and Amira was forced to grapple blindly even as she lost her grip on now nonexistent feathers, barely managing to grab onto a newly formed bronze spike even in her adrenaline induced haze. Another heartbeat, and they were moving in the opposite direction with the same momentum as before, though Amira didn't know that at first as there was no indication of movement, no change that would indicate they were moving in any direction but the one they were a moment ago. The lead wizard, who was also the one continually tracking their location was leading the charge into the wall of white, had no time to react as his upper body disappeared, taking with it a large chunk of his broom, leaving the rest splintered and flecked with blood. Even as the truly _**massive**_ Hungarian Horntail which had devoured him roared, the unexpected appearance of the world's fiercest dragon rattled the usually composed poaching team, who had not expected something so dangerous on a seemingly easy mission as they scattered away from the dragonfire which had just enveloped another of their fellows.

Seeing their remaining attackers momentarily scatter into the clouds, Hungary wasted no time. Barely taking an instant to ensure Amira was still attached to her back, she roared in fury one last time as their surroundings blurred and faded, replaced in an instant by the clearing surrounding their home. As soon as her legs touched down on her own soil she swiftly changed forms, reverting easily back into her human shape then smoothly reaching back and pulling the shaking toddler from her back and into her arms in one movement. As she rubbed a soothing hand through now frizzy brown hair in an attempt to calm her daughter, she was also squirming internally, at war with herself over whether she was angrier at herself for putting a chi-her daughter in danger with her reckless trip to the sky, or for thinking anything about her actions would turn out as any better than disastrous.

In the mind of the recently turned four year old an entirely different line of thinking was being processed as she recovered from the shock of being attacked( if indirectly). While the whole encounter had been only a few minutes in scope, the feeling it had instilled in her had been a much more permanent one. It had taken a minute to settle in, but once it had Amira couldn't keep herself from breaking out in a giggling fit, startling her mother so much she almost lost her grip. She had never been in such a harrowing situation but she was surprised at how much she had actually _**liked**_ it. At first she had been a bit freaked out, but once the adrenaline set in and her mummy had knocked one of the bad men off his broom she had to actively stop herself from throwing out a woop of victory at the surprised expression on his face. She had lost sight of the confrontation after her mummy's unexpected shift into a dragon, a _**dragon**_ , but merely the sight of such a thing was enough to get her imagination roiling regardless, and now that they were on the ground again she could only laugh as she peeked up slightly at Elizaveta's form above her.

Said nation, who was still wearing her usual dress, had her thought processes screech to a halt at the sound. Pulling her daughter's face away from her chest, she gave the small child a _look_ , unsure if she was hearing correctly and promising herself to clean out her ears at the first opportunity(she hadn't done so in...some amount of years anyway). "You're not...upset?" it came out a bit tentative, admittedly, but she wasn't sure what else to say when her child started laughing at highly stressful and dangerous situations, perhaps she had some sort of mental problem? "Nope, that was waaay too fun" a moment of silence "..Fun?" "Yep" Amira nodded in response, though she was still recovering her breathe after such a long fit of laughter.

Hungary would have been a bit more shocked at this revelation, but as a nation who had seen many of her colleagues and friends enjoy odder things, she figured the topic wasn't worth pursuing and let it drop. Letting go of her momentary self-loathing she just shook her head and chuckled, swinging the child in her arms around before falling into the tall grass on her back with a soft curve to her lips even as said kid smiled in return.

Both had only been basking in emergent sun's rays for a few minutes when Amira's unmistakable childish voice broke the silence "Can you teach me how to do that?"

Elizaveta just hugged her daughter tighter, though the teary smile adorning her usually bored features was telling.

* * *

Hungary ended the call on her phone angrily, hiding her frustration at the interruption by her boss as she turned back to the lesson she was putting together in her study.

As it turned out, she had a plethora of old books lying around, and Amira's persistent nagging aside, she too had wanted to start teaching her some magic. She knew runes would be a bit too much of a challenge at her age, but she still brought out some books on the basics of several languages out in addition to the standard magics taught at most magical institutions. She was too young for a wand as well, making the books of limited use, but Elizaveta was forced to push that dilemma to the side as the wards alerted her to a familiar presence approaching her property. Seated at her desk in a room on the opposite side of the internally enlarged building however, she barely heard the knock on her door even as her senses confirmed the visitors identity.

 _Prussia_

* * *

The former Nation of Prussia whistled merrily as he strolled up to his only slightly awesome friend Ungarn's house, Gilbird whistling in sync with him even as he ascended familiar steps up to her front door. He had already tried her manor in the city, but after a bit of snooping and quite a few traps foiled, he had determined that she was at her other, more isolated place. He resisted the urge to scoff, his brother had told him to go check up on Hungary, as she was the next in line to hold a World Meeting, and he wanted to be sure that everything would be taken care of ahead of time. Heh, more like he needed an excuse to get the awesome him out of the house so he could hog all the wurst he had made for lunch, likely spiting him for the mess he had made in the last meeting.(Prussia refused to acknowledge the brawl in France as soley _his_ fault, there were others at fault as well after all)

He didn't bother complaining though, it was an opportunity to see one of his oldest friends, and maybe have some fun competing in hunting or sports like they always did back in the day. If not he had plenty of ideas for pranks he had yet to try anyway(which was telling, with how long he had been in the business he really had to dig deep for new ideas sometimes). Knocking on the door, he waited, hands in his pockets and eyes closed for a response, even as he focused on his tune. When the door finally opened, so too did Prussia's eyes, though he stopped humming when he did, as the space behind the door was empty of frying pan wielding nations, and the Hungary shaped outline blinked in his vision as he wondered if his friends house was now haunted by an unawesome ghost.

"Helló, aki te vagy?"

The squeaky Hungarian coming from below him caused Prussia to jump(not that he would ever admit to being so not awesome as to be surprised by a child, he would later say) and look down. The first thing he thought was that Hungary had been in an argument with Romania again and had gotten herself shrunk for her troubles. The second was that she had never looked so feminine as a child(the sight was surreal to him), though she had never worn a dress before she had appeared as a fifteen year old, so he wasn't sure anyway. His third thought was interrupted as the actual Hungary practically _flew_ into the foyer, and the eerily similar little girl at his feet exclaimed as happily as a small child could: "Mama, van egy látogató az ajtón"

Prussia looked back down at her.

He looked back up at Hungary, she was frozen, her face a picture of apprehension.

He looked down again at familiar forest green eyes and a cheerful smile.

Finally registering her words, he blinked dazedly for a moment before his eyes rolled up in their sockets and he collapsed in a dead faint.

As Amira immediately began waving her chubby arms around in a panic, Hungary herself could only hold a hand over her face as she sighed,

Damn it


End file.
